Alone
by TheHaggus
Summary: A slender based fanfiction. You awake and find yourself in the woods, you don't know what happened, but you have to run. Whenever you see it, you forget more and more. What will happen if you forget it all? what about the others?


**Alone**

Prologue

Running. Something in me is screaming "go. Go and never turn back." At that moment my heart stopped, then continued faster than ever. I'm forgetting...I'm forgetting everything! I have to remember! Not just for me, but for everyone! If they don't know...No! I can't afford to think like this! I stop by a truck, shaking the handle. Locked. Of course. I'm tempted to break into it with my bare first, but that wouldn't stop it.

I run around it, as quietly as possible, and climb into the back of the truck. "There has to be something I can use..." I say under my breath, not sure who I'm talking to, but it's comforting. Maybe I'm talking to god, knowing I won't last long, knowing that at least someone would know what happened was comforting.

I don't know who's truck this belongs to, maybe its mine? Maybe it's Ryan's? Ryan...who is that? Brother? Friend? Boy Friend? I shake my head, it can't be that. But he must have been important to me. Whoever it belonged to, they had a lot of stuff, pillows, CD's, notebooks, blankets, soup... Paper! I launch at it, like it's going to fly away, but after what has been happening to me, I don't know what to expect anymore.

I grab the pencil and the notebook, ripping out pages as fast as I can. My vision becomes scratchy, and unclear. I grab the pages and jump out of the back of the truck. I can't get away. . . I have to be quick. I need to find places people would look and find them. I keep running, and stop at a silo. What is this doing here? No mater, it sticks out. I hold the piece of torn paper up against the bumpy surface and begin writing... I know what it is. I know what I have to say. But I can't find the words in my mind stop place them. The static clouding my vision covers my words and memories...

Images. Images work. I scratch out an image, a tall man in a suit. Long limbs. No face, He has no face. I can't think of what words to use... "Follows". That's what it's been doing to me. Something tells me to put 1, I don't know why, but I do. I scratch it out and put onto the silo. The other note... What do I put**?** The static becomes greater; it's closer than I thought. I drop my bag, its slowing me down. I run, it hurts to think. I try to stop thinking. Stop thinking. I pass some rocks, but ignore them. I finally find a strange fixture, four crossing walls. I stop, sitting on the ground. I'm tired, it hurts to breath. It feels like someone is trying to claw my neck out with their bare hands, to replace them with thorny sticks that will scratch against the delicate skin inside.

I Begin writing, with the same problem I started with. Words…. I need words. What would I say to anyone else who is like me? Anyone else who is chosen. "Can't run" 2. I scratch out, in horrible handwriting. I shove the paper onto a rusted nail, sticking out of the other wall and continue running.

I start crying. Why does it have to be this way? Why did this happen? I stop, I know exactly why this is happening. It has to happen. I find a tunnel, and decide this would be the next place to place the note. I don't know what to write to help, maybe what is here. I can't find the words, so I scratch out trees and the number 1. I wish someone was here… Someone else who was chosen. I turn to the left, and run straight. I find an area that's splits between an area full of rusted tankers, and a bathroom.

I begin heading to the tankers, when static pushes its way back into my mind. I drop to the ground, screaming. It fills my head, pushing, pulling. The edges of vision fade away. Don't. Don't. Don't! I force myself up and force my run into a sprint, my eyes almost glued shut, crashing into a tree. "I could stay here for a minute..." I think. When the static lightens I push myself upwards, making a dash towards the bathrooms, I practically throw myself into the wall, my head sliding just below the "women" sign. I have to keep going. I'm already dead, what's another life for who knows how many others?

Note. Right, note. I raise the pencil to the paper. What now? What does it do? "Always watches. No eyes." 14. Perfect. I run into the bathroom, and slam it onto a stall door. I turn around into the mirror. Blood. So much blood. Dirt, too. "No mater, I have to keep running, keep running. Don't stop. Don't stop. They need you. "I chant in my mind, which numbs the steadily growing pain of static.

Blank. Nothing. Blank. I need to think to stay awake. Remember... Who am I? Why am I here? I know why I'm here, we all know the rules. Note. Right. That's why I came here. Where did I come from? I turn around, to see it. It doesn't move. I stare at it. I can't look away. Any chance I had before is gone now. I break in a cold sweat and run in the opposite direction.

In the distance I one truck and trailer. I run into the Truck, jiggling the handles. Please. Please. Please! I run to the trailer. "Open!" I scream. I'm desperate, my brain screams to finish the notes, but my body yells with every fiber and nerve in my body almost to the point of burning to run, though I know there is no escape. I force myself to my knees and crawl under the trailer, which eases my nerves slightly. "Don't look or it takes you." 's the first thing you learn, but if what happens to them is the same as what happens to me, they may ignore the lesser dull ping of thought and let their body have control of their fate. I slam it to the side car door. I look of in the direction I was heading, and see a tree. A chill sends up my spine. No. . . . That one is different. I run through the woods, my feet tangling in vines and branches. I see a bag. It's not mine. How many others..? None after this. I can do this. I grab it, and make a sprint, all pain leaving my body, a rush of power filling my veins, pushing the static away so I can think. "Alright, when I passed the walls, I saw a barren wood area… that seems like a good place. The next note, what will I write? My mind is slowly being filled with static. This is no good. I keep running, and finally reach the trees, if they can be called that. They are stripped of all bark and limbs, just pieces of wood sticking out of the ground. I lean into the wood, and begin to write.

I star at it. I can't move. I can't move! My hands tremble and I rise from the wood. Stop. My foot rises. Stop. I drop the pen. "STOP!" I grab the pencil and Write as fast as I can "LEAVE ME ALONE." 15. And run. I don't know where I'm going, Tears are streaming from my eyes, I can breathe, and the weight on my chest is heavier than ever, as I gasp with each step. My face is wet, I raise my hand to touch my cheek, and it's a combination of sweat, tears, and blood. I use my sleeve to wipe some of the tears for my eyes which cloud my vision. While I run I write on a piece of paper, and drop it. "no no no no no." 14. I found it.

I run to the tree, the tree which by looking at it fills my soul with a sense of hopelessness and distress. I stop about 20 feet away from it. The walk slowly. What am I doing? My mind goes a blank. I write the note, and place it on the tree. "Help me."5. This is it. I'm gone. Heck, may as well say I left fighting. I continue running forward, then into the woods. I hear a foot step. I turn around. It's here. My eyes widen as my head is filled with madness. Unimaginable evil, all hatred and evil deeds ever done combined, forced through my head at once. I scream, bringing my hands to my head, letting out loud sobs of anger and fear.

Am I ready for death? My job has been done; this is what I was trained for. Just keep running damn it. I break into a sprint, but before I make it 5 feet, I feel a burning in my chest. I look down, shocked. A tentacle, Burt through my chest, entered from my back. I wince as it pulls out, and fall to my knees. This is it, this is how I die. I can't stop. I crawl to a tree, it's an odd tree, and it looks different, brighter. This is a good place to die.

I guess I should be reminiscing, but there's nothing I remember that is good enough. "Hehe..." I let out a laugh as more tears run down my face, onto my chest. I don't want to look at it; it's just below my left shoulder. One last note. This one isn't for who is next, it's for me, just to ease me. I raise my pencil to the paper, and lightly right my last note, last number. I close my eyes and embrace the pain; I won't give this monster the satisfaction of killing me. Everything goes dull as my grip on the note loosens. My few seconds of consciences are painless, as all reality slips through my fingers away into the dirt bellow me.


End file.
